


The Naked Truth

by coloredink



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you naked?  In the kitchen?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naked Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Naga Prawda- TŁUMACZENIE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4781939) by [Toootie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toootie/pseuds/Toootie)



> Pretty sure this was another kinkmeme fill.

The door swung open. Sherlock turned his head. John stood in the doorway, his hair sticking up every which way, eyes rimmed red with sleep. He stifled his yawn with one hand, said, "Oh, sorry, I'll just wait 'til you're done," and left.

Sherlock looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing any clothing. This wasn't unusual; when one was brushing one's teeth in the comfort and (supposed) privacy of one's own bathroom, one didn't _have_ to wear a towel. Then again, he hadn't locked the door, and it wasn't as if he lived alone. It was bound to happen.

\-----

Sherlock hadn't really expected John to bring it up or act any differently--it was some sort of human social nicety to just ignore potentially embarrassing subjects, a mutual unspoken "let us forget this ever happened"--but he'd expected...well, something. Covert glances, when John thought Sherlock wasn't watching. (And Sherlock was always watching.) Lingering looks. A sudden flush of the cheeks and a bitten lip.

But there was nothing.

It didn't _bother_ him. Of course not. It was all transport, and physicality wasn't really his area. But Sherlock prided himself on his powers of observation, and he would have to be completely insensate to not know that he was quite fit. He knew that people looked at him, when he walked down the street. He'd used it to his advantage, charming his way into hotels or gathering information on so-and-so's movements. It worked on both women and men. Why, then, did John seem to be immune?

Well, no one was at their best first thing in the morning, toothbrush sticking out of their mouth and foam on their lips, hair sticking up in whorls and tufts. Clearly, Sherlock just had to present himself better.

\-----

"I'm positively _soaked_ ," Sherlock moaned. "I can't stand these wet things another minute!" He let his shirt splat onto the stairs.

John didn't even look up from his book. "Better pick that up, or the water'll warp the wood and Mrs. Hudson will have a fit."

Sherlock shucked off his trousers and left those in a puddle in the doorway. "You pick it up."

"She's not your housekeeper, and neither am I." John turned a page in his book. It was some kind of ridiculous seafaring novel, or so Sherlock assumed from the tallship on the cover.

Sherlock paused in the sitting room on the way to the bathroom. Slowly and deliberately, he peeled his wet pants down his thighs and left them on the floor. John just continued reading. Really, was the book that much more compelling than a naked Sherlock?

Well, he was quite cold now, gooseflesh rising on his skin, and he stomped into the bathroom for a hot shower.

"It's your own fault, you know!" John called after him. "You knew the forecast!"

\-----

"Don't mind me," Sherlock sang out. "Got an interview with Lady Carrolton and need to look my best."

"Sherlock," John spluttered, "what the--get out! There isn't enough room for two people in here!"

"There would be if you'd just budge up a bit." Sherlock nudged his knee between John's thighs, causing the other man to jump and all but plaster himself against the wall.

"I don't--you--why can't you just wait your turn?! I'll be out in another five minutes!"

"Then we won't be sharing the bath for very long, anyhow," Sherlock pointed out. "Now, I'm just going to reach around you for the shampoo."

"Forget this! I'll just get out now." John squeezed the water off, flung aside the curtain, and whipped his towel from the rod. He wrapped it around his waist and stomped from the bathroom.

Sherlock watched him go, water dripping from his hair. He frowned. He should have gotten a better look at John's cock.

\-----

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Are you naked? In the kitchen?"

Sherlock looked up from his experiment. He looked down at himself. Then up at John again. "Yes. But I should have thought that was obvious."

"Just making sure." John shut his eyes, hard, then opened them again. "That's not very safe, you know. Working with chemicals. Naked."

"I'm not working with corrosive acids or anything. The worst that could happen is a little stain."

John opened his mouth. Closed it. Ran his tongue round his teeth. The little nuances of his expressions were so fascinating. Sherlock could catalogue them all day. Well, no; probably he could catalogue them for an hour or so before he got bored. But there were other things about John to catalogue, so that was all right. "Yes. Well. It's the principle of the thing, you know."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Sherlock queried. "That I'm naked?"

"No," said John. "I've seen plenty of naked people. But I do worry about, you know, your safety. Also, I'll never want to sit in that chair ever again, now that I know your testicles have been on it."

Sherlock frowned down at his lap. "What's wrong with my testicles?"

John sighed and went into the sitting room.

\-----

Sherlock marched into the sitting room. John sat at the table, blogging, judging from the way he poked at the keyboard in a somewhat regular and consistent manner, except when he backspaced an entire sentence. Sherlock was naked. He presented himself at John's side, hands on his hips.

"John," he said.

"Hmm?" John glanced up at Sherlock, then back at the keyboard.

"Would you say I'm very fit?" Sherlock asked.

John looked up again, longer, this time. He looked Sherlock from the top of his head all the way to his feet. Twice. "Yes, I'd say so."

Sherlock frowned. "Then why don't you want to have sex with me?"

John blinked. "Who said I don't want to have sex with you?"

This time, Sherlock blinked. "You do?"

"I'd have to be mad not to," said John. "Or straight, I suppose, but fortunately I'm neither of those things. I think."

"Oh," said Sherlock. "Then why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I didn't think you were interested. Married to your work and all that."

"Yes, yes," Sherlock said, hastily. "But. I mean. For God's sake, man, I've been prancing about naked, you could have shown _some_ sign of interest."

John blinked at Sherlock some more, then burst into laughter. "Is _that_ what that was all about? I thought you'd been naked more often than usual, but--oh, this is good. This is rich. You were doing that to get my attention?"

"No. I. Yes. Perhaps." Sherlock flung his arms in the air. "Look, do you want to have sex or not?"

John shut the laptop without further ado. "Might as well, seeing as you're already naked."

\---end---

**Author's Note:**

> [coloredink.tumblr.com](http://coloredink.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [sumiwrites.wordpress.com](https://sumiwrites.wordpress.com/) (if you wanna see the books I've written)


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